


Arthur Kirkland’s Family

by InsaneHam



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Child Abuse, FACE Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneHam/pseuds/InsaneHam
Summary: Arthur had always wanted a child. From the time his mother had rocked him to sleep in her arms, Arthur had blearily wished for a little child of his own to transfer this soothing comfort to.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Arthur Kirkland’s Family

Arthur had always wanted a child. From the time his mother had rocked him to sleep in her arms, Arthur had blearily wished for a little child of his own to transfer this soothing comfort to. He had entered the world of courtship with this idea in mind; a cozy home to raise two happy children with a wife of his own. Francine brought a burst of colour to his otherwise rather dull future, promising nothing but one surprise after another. The first was the time they met, when she had accidentally slammed him with her car and spent the next few months squabbling over his treatment, much to his consternation. The next, a sudden and passionate kiss to cut off a heated argument about flowers, of all things. Again, popping the question with a ring and a Cheshire wink, under the moonlit night they said their vows. Repeated them in front of their friends and family, Francine positively dazzling in her wedding gown. The caterers had tripped and covered them in fondue, and Francine had laughed and licked some cream off his nose. That didn’t stop Arthur from leaving a flaming review on their website, but now he could look back on those memories with a wistful remembrance. Indeed, Francine had brought a much needed burst of colour to his dreary life, and now he couldn’t imagine another day without her and the spontaneous bombshells she dropped on him. Not all of them were happy. Like the time after months of trying, he came home to find her crying inconsolably at the kitchen table. Through her tears she had managed to strangle out the results, and Arthur felt like she had kicked him in the chest. But he had stayed by her, hushing her sobs and promising they’d stay together, from beginning to end. It had taken a few months for Francine to be prepared to try adoption, and Arthur was determined to make it work. But then he got a new surprise, for once not from Francine but his estranged brother. If he had known it was his brother at first he wouldn’t have picked up the phone, and he had just been about to slam the receiver when his brother hurriedly asked if he still had that fanciful dream of having children. Emrys quickly explained Allistor had gotten married to a lady who had recently passed who had a sister deemed unfit to take care of her children. The father had passed just six months before, leaving behind two little boys. They had no other family and as they both knew, Allistor couldn’t stand children so he was making calls to all his colleagues, trying to find someone who’d take them in. Arthur immediately agreed and gave the good news Francine, who jumped for joy and quickly made the arrangements. The next few months shot by, only to crash in bed the night before, awake and petrified as Francine whispered assurances in his ear.

“What if they don’t like me?” he worried. “What if I’m a bad parent?”

“Oh, ma tasse de thé, I’m sure they will love you. And if they don’t, we will win them over, together, with my cooking and your British charm.” She nestled closer. “Whatever happens, we will face it together. I will be with you every step of the way.”

Even with those words still beating in his heart, Arthur didn’t think he’d ever been quite so nervous as when they stood outside, ready to meet their future children for the first time. It took an odd combination of pleading and threatening from Francine to get him inside the building.

The first sign something wasn’t quite right was when Arthur had introduced themselves and the social worker instantly knew which children they were to pick up. She gave them both a pitying stare as she waved them down the halls. Before Francine could ask, she came to a stop before a grey door, identical to the ones that came before it.

“Alfred?” She knocked gently, just loud enough to be heard. “Matthew? I’m coming in now.”

The room was grey as well, lit by the florescent beam that it hurt his eyes. He blinked a few times, taking in the only signs of life: two unkempt beds and the drawings-the only spot of colour in this otherwise clinical place. 

The boys were shrinking back against the far wall, pressing so close to it as if it would suck them up. Their wide, fearful eyes reflected Arthur’s shock. They were so small. Just tiny little children, yet their sunken cheeks and fading bruises told more than needed to be said. Beside him, Francine let out a quiet, horrified gasp. The smaller boy reacted instantly, whimpering and curling up on himself as if to block out the world. The other snarled like a feral beast, crouching down, prepared to attack. Arthur couldn’t hear the social worker’s words over the ringing in his ears. Francine had to bodily drag him out of the room.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t exactly sure how his first meeting was supposed to go. Maybe with them jumping into his arms, laughing and cheerful, instantly the perfect match for his perfect family. Something... something happy. Something different. Not...not  this . Two little children scared out of their mind. Of him.

Later, the social worker filled them in. Neglect. Abuse. Beatings and alcohol. Arthur felt like he was going to be sick. Francine’s hand trembled on his arm. These... these were their children now. Alfred and Matthew. Matthew and Alfred. 

Two broken little boys in a shattered dream.


End file.
